


Loosen Up

by Japanese Butterfly (retrospider)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Minor Bad Touch Trio (Hetalia), New York City, Past England/France (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 14:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21357742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrospider/pseuds/Japanese%20Butterfly
Summary: America wakes up at the end of a UN meeting to find that he and France have been ditched. But that's not going to stop him from having a fun rest of the day with France!Made with MoJoLiberosis.
Relationships: America/France (Hetalia), China/England (Hetalia)
Kudos: 14





	Loosen Up

America groaned. The hamburger he clutched in his hand had finger imprints on the bun and was cold compared to before, he noticed, as his eyes barely opened. What the hell? It wasn't like him to fall asleep mid-burger. It must be because of all the video games he was playing last night… 

A soft sigh caught his attention and he looked to his side to see the blond locks of hair of another nation curled in his own seat. America smiled. Well at least he wasn't the only one. It was weird nobody woke them, but he'd just wake up France and see what would go from there. Throwing the cold half eaten burger he leaned across a chair and hit France's arm lightly. 

"Dude, wake up. Meeting’s over.”

"Hm...?" The French's eyes opened slowly and he yawned and stretched before glancing around the room. "How rude..." he muttered, wiping his eyes before acknowledging the country to his side:  
"Good morning, Amérique!" He said with a smile. "Merci, thank you for waking me, mon ami…”

America rolled his eyes, "France, it's like six in the afternoon—totally not morning." He rose from his seat, stretching and cracking his back in the process. France cringed at the sound of his cracking joints, but kept a smile on his face still. "I wonder why the other nations wouldn't wake us, though. If I had slept any later we would have slept through dinner"

"You've made a good point!" France exclaimed standing from his own chair. "How would you like to go out to dinner with me~?" he asked, extending his hand.

Alfred grinned, nodding at the idea of food. He took France's hand and happily led him out of the meeting room. Turning to his companion as they went down the hall, he tilted his head, "Where do you wanna eat? I know you'll say no to Mickey D’s so I guess I'll hafta let you pick…"

France had a momentarily puzzled look on his face from being asked that question by the one who led him out of the building in the first place. But that was just America. The two started walking.

"I know of a wonderful French restaurant nearby here! It's a little pricey, but the management likes me and, Alfred, I wouldn't even suggest such a place if it wasn't on me, cher," he winked. "What do you say?'

Alfred's eyes sparkled, holding Francis' hand tighter, "Seriously? Well if it's on you and that’s good then totally, but one thing... You do remember I eat more than your typical euro dude's proportions. I wouldn't want to embarrass you or cost ya too much…" He gave a sheepish look, as his stomach lowly growled.

France stopped and placed another hand on top of Alfred's. "Pas de problème! I feel gratitude towards you and it has been a while since we have spent time together. We should catch up, Alfred!”

As they kept walking France saw when Alfred noticed the small building they were headed towards with large glass windows and ornate double doors.

Alfred's eyes widened. Extravagance he agreed was an important thing, but when it got to the point where America would feel out of place in his tan meeting uniform and bomber jacket he had to wonder if it was worth it. He bit the side of his lip, internally reminding himself of what France had said. And he was right, it wasn't every day they got to hang out together.

France walked through the doors and the man behind a podium there was obviously glad to see him. He noticed the hold that Francis had of America's hand to making it clear they were a party. 

"Table for two?" 

"Oui."

Alfred could hardly take everything in: the waiters in their stiff ironed outfits carrying wine that he knew France would greatly appreciate; the white tablecloth and the many utensils that Alfred vaguely remembered England teaching him their usage; the shining chandeliers and everyone wearing expensive outfits… Almost everyone who sat at the tables was European! Alfred could barely tell that he was in his own country with the foreign feel the atmosphere left in his stomach.

France noticed this discomfort as they were placed in a secluded booth across from each other. Once the waiter had left, Francis sat beside the American.  
"Alfred, what is the matter?"

A light twinge of pink covered Alfred's cheeks. "It's nothing, dude." He wanted Francis to have a good time, and he did let him pick the restaurant. He gave a huge grin and grasped Francis' hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

The other stared at him a moment, caught off-guard by the feel of his muscular grip...  
He laughed charmingly. "Oh, cher, you don't cease to surprise me... Don't fret, I asked to eat far from everyone else to avoid attracting much attention! Just enjoy yourself, mon ami." Francis presented to his companion the most genuine smile and went back to his booth where they began making small-talk when a new waiter introduced himself and asked France if he wanted the "usual" drink then turned to Alfred to take his order.

"For you, sir?"

Alfred struggled to hold his blush back, "Um... I'll just have water, please." He fidgeted in his seat while the waiter nodded and turned. "You're ordering food for me and I have to agree with Iggy on the whole no snails thing."  
"Alright then," France responded waving a hand as he looked through the menu.  
The waiter returned with the drinks and a basket of bread.

"Would you like any appetizers?" He asked.

"Non, merci, but I am ready to order,” Francis said, he was sure he found the perfect entree for the both of them.  
The waiter left once more.

Alfred gave a sigh when his phone buzzed and he squirmed in his seat, trying his best to not look at his phone. Another buzz caught Francis' attention and he grabbed his phone, checking it to find two texts from Iggy:

\------------------------------  
Igs-man  
\----------------  
I just found out you're not at the hotel, please say you & the Frog aren't still asleep at the meeting Italy was supposed to wake you both 

I swear Alfred Jones if you don't answer me this minute-  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfred didn't even read the rest before pocketing his phone. "Sorry, dude. Artie texted me. Apparently Italy was supposed to wake us up."  
"Oh? Well that's too bad—they shouldn't have left us in the first place, don't you agree?"  
Alfred nodded and he tugged on his bomber jacket, "they're just not cool enough to hang with us, doesn't really bug me." He took a sip of his drink, and gave a mildly pleased hum.

Francis watched him. This was a lovely time so far, just he and America for once without a certain annoying Brit getting involved.  
"So," he started, "if you're not too busy after this, Amèrique, perhaps we could do some other things before I depart to my own country tomorrow?”

Alfred's eyes lit up, “Dude, that would be totally cool! So… what did you order, man?”  
Francis told him of a classic French dish and told him the parts of the dish and how wonderful it would taste. All the while he was observing the man sitting across from him. Alfred still seemed normal, well as normal as the handsome brunette could be... Francis smirked nonchalantly taking a sip of his drink.

Alfred gave another impatient sip of his drink, and glanced back at France. He secretly liked the older's looks, and France was nice to be with when he wasn't trying to get into his pants. He felt a bit warm in his face as Francis' mysterious eyes met his own. He liked the way they seemed always low-lidded and serene… maybe even a bit sexy. 

"Afterwards, Alfred, I was thinking we could go for a walk and see what's around this city since I don't usually get to go sightseeing with company," Alfred gave an eager nod, he would love to show Francis New York City. It had been a while since he gave a tour for another nation and he loved the idea of showing Francis around.

They kept talking like this for a while, Alfred going on about the famous landmarks in New York, trying to impress the older nation and, to the delight of Francis, finally seemed to get comfortable. The waiter returned with their food and placed it in front of the two.

"Sir?" He was regarding Alfred.

“Uh, yes?” he asked nervously.  
“Would you like a refill?”  
‘Oh.’ Alfred nodded at the waiter watching the man refill his drink when he moved the bottle from his face, the American almost drooling at the food in front of him. The Frenchman's voice tore his attention away.

"You like what you see, oui?" he remarked.

Alfred blushed meekly, "Yeah, I mean, it looks really good, just like you described it!"  
With a smile France almost turned back down to his meal, then.he noticed the American struggling with his silverware-using etiquette. He stifled a laugh watching the cute country for a moment.

"Alfred," he called softly.

The brunette looked up at him and France waved the hand that was holding the correct type of fork.  
Alfred blushed. Damn all those utensils, it'd been two centuries since Alfred had to even truly .pay attention to any etiquette rules… He studied the fork in France's hand and grabbed an identical one on his side of the table, as he stared embarrassed at his food. "Sorry 'bout that..."

"I'm pleased to help..." Francis stated before taking a bite of his meal.  
Alfred took a small bite as well (compared to how he normally ate) and closed his eyes, allowing for once his senses to take over and he truly savored the meal. Take that Iggy, he actually had working tastes buds!

As he took in the rest of his food, so too did France take in the pleasing sight of a content American among a place Francis truly liked. He was proud at himself for such a job well done!  
"Are you having a nice time, mon ami?" 

Alfred looked up. Gingerly, he reached across the table for France’s hand, but he did a good job of keeping a confident expression in the other’s midst, and squeezed it gently, "One of the best, Francis." Seeing the blond’s eyes widen Alfred felt his stomach twist and his face heat. But to say France's human name seemed right, intimate, and as he got a bit used to the feeling his whole body became warm in a nice way… “And you?”

France smiled gently and changed roles by taking Alfred's hand and pressing it against his lips.  
"As long as you're happy, I'm happy, Alfred," he winked.  
His hand tingled where Francis' lips had touched it. He felt like Arthur with how easily he was blushing today. He glanced down at the table to see the empty plates. “You ready to go, then?” He almost used a cheesy Disney line, but he didn't think Francis had watched Aladdin.  
"Well, we have to get the check first, Alfred," he said teasing.  
Alfred blushed again. 

France snapped his fingers catching the attention of one of the other waiters. "Monsieur, check please?"

Alfred watched as Francis smiled at the waiter who handed Francis his check, seeing the other sign his name fluidly was nothing but beautiful. He couldn't help the silent adoring sigh that escaped him.

Francis handed the checkbook back to the waiter and looked back at Alfred who was already rising from his chair, holding out his hand for Francis to take. "C'mon dude, we only have so long in New York and the city is big." He led the other past the other tables, practically skipping through the restaurant to the lit up outdoors. Alfred hesitated before putting on his leather gloves, deciding against hailing a cab. He took Francis' hand again, his other hand going into his pocket out of habit as he led him through the streets.

'The City That Never Sleeps' certainly was so. The people, the buildings, the cars—everything was lit up and very much awake... It reminded France a bit of his own Ville Lumiere. He inhaled the cool air and felt oddly serene among the ruckus. Alfred was bouncing as he led Francis, a gleam in his eyes as he thought of how he would surprise Francis at the place he was leading him to. 

"Where are we going, Amèrique?"

Alfred grinned, there was so much to show him, he did wish that he didn’t have to narrow it down to one place… but Alfred was confident in his choice. "Well you've already been to the city halls and the museums and we probably should avoid anything with importance in world history so we're going to the Rockefeller Center!"  
France cocked his head a bit. The name was familiar but he had no idea what it was or what they could do there and the gleam in the brunette’s eyes told him it was meant to be that way. He kept his mind from thinking on it too much so he could feel more of the effects of a surprise, and occupied himself by humming the rest of the walk.  
They turned a couple blocks he quieted when he noticed his nation's flag among many others around a very tall building—well, in New York EACH of the buildings seemed tall, but there was a small crowd around this one. Could this be it?  
Alfred grinned as a guy in a black suit approached him and shook his hand with vigor.  
"Mr. America, it’s a pleasure! We weren't expecting you so late, is there anything you need?"  
Alfred nodded whispering into the man's ear and the man’s eyes widened. "Of course, Mr. America. We'll take the both of you there right away."  
Alfred grinned as the man led him through the crowds in the center, towards the staff only elevators. As both he and Francis entered he put a hand over Francis' eyes. "Sorry, it's only till we go all the way up."

France almost spoke to protest as he felt his own face heat slightly but calmed down. ...And did he really want to protest this? Alfred had taken such a dominating turn and Francis would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to keep going with this... 

He closed his eyes under the other's hand patiently waited with an appropriate amount of anxiousness to see whatever it was Amèrique wanted him to see.

"A monsieur like yourself has no need for apologies, Alfred.”

Alfred chuckled, awkwardly pressing Francis closer to him as the elevator started to move. He rested his head on Francis' shoulder giving a sigh as the elevator stopped, but he refused to remove his hand. 

Francis felt they were close when the air hit his face and the city noise greeting him once again. They were outside he knew, but how high they were, he did not. Alfred guided him forward.  
He felt his heart flutter from the excitement. This dinner date was turning out to be exceeding its original purposes.

Alfred felt a rush of pride at the view of his city and the garden the center had on its roof. He stopped when he reached the edge of a fountain, (inwardly debating on pushing Francis in but facing the others wrath when the night was so perfect seemed wrong). He paused and turned fumbling a bit so Francis was facing him, but his eyes were still covered.  
"Keep your eyes closed... just a bit longer." He carefully took his hand away from Francis' face, "Now open them," said Alfred backing away as Francis’ eyes opened taking in the sights the city had to offer. 

Francis’ view around him took what breath he would have used to gasp. He turned, agape, glancing all around at the evening sky stretched above and beyond them into the landscape and on an invisible horizon. More noticeably, he realized, he was looking straight at the Statue of Liberty far off in the distance, and… he walked around, spotting a wooded area among the hundreds of buildings in his gaze: Central Park.

"Alfred... I never new New York was so..." He couldn't finish. He couldn't get his head together to describe it.  
America started to turn a faint red when Francis gave his city a compliment, taking it personally. Basically Francis had just called him beautiful, and Alfred wasn't used to that coming from another nation. “Nah, it's nothing compared to the view we could get at the Empire State Building, but it's more secluded, at least, at this time…" He squeezed Francis' hand, his eyes sparkling in hope.  
That made Francis nearly jump out of his skin, not because he was scared of Alfred though...  
"J'adore!" he exclaimed to Alfred who blushed cutely. France blushed a little himself, such an alien feeling to him…  
Francis took the American's other hand, his iris-colored eyes seemed to glimmer, softly smiling at him as he said:  
"...Je t'aime, Alfred."  
A small gasp left Alfred, he knew exactly what Francis had just said and the knowledge hit him with such a force he had to physically step back. He was filled with warmth at the statement, and before he gave Francis the wrong idea he wanted to do something (words were impossible at the moment). America hesitated to step forward and when he did, the couple of inches’ distance between them swelled the twisting feeling in his gut and he bashfully looked another way. But the way the country before him spoke, "Alfred," in that sexy accent—almost something rugged yet breathy—coaxed his attention and Alfred looked up. 

In a single, fluid movement the Frenchman had closed his eyes tilted his head and leaned in and pressed his lips to Alfred's softly. Feeling the other relax, France smirked into the kiss deepening it ever so slightly, guiding America's arms to his lower back and wrapping his own arms around the taller's shoulders. After a while of that their lips broke apart and each took a moment to look at the other to register that, 'Yes, I just kissed that handsome man in front of me and he kissed back.' Alfred released a meek laugh, otherwise he would have stood there gaping. Smirking impishly France remarked that Alfred’s eyes were like 'sapphirs,' deciding to voice this thought just to see the blush break out on his face.

Alfred gave a small grin at Francis. He wished he wasn't so awkward, Francis had more experience than Alfred ever wanted to imagine, but at the same time Alfred just wanted time to stop so they could be in each other's arms forever, one of his hands warily trailed through Francis' hair. It was softer than the fluff on his jacket. Alfred gave a content sigh as he leaned slightly up for another kiss.  
"We should, like, probably get going, soon… but it depends on where you want to go after this, to see more sights or go to the hotel… I- I mean, it's getting late and we do have one last meeting tomorrow before everyone leaves."  
France smiled; America was blushing again. "Would you escort me, monsieur? It has gotten late," he admitted, "we should return to the hotel before that Angleterre gets angry..."  
Alfred nodded, shifting so that he was holding one of Francis' arms, he led them back towards the elevator, chuckling at Francis' statement "Yeah, Iggy always seems to have a stick up his ass, he really needs to loosen up."  
France didn’t have any response.

They passed by a very grand chandelier on their way down and soon enough the two were outside again in the cool nighttime air. The blond didn't feel any awkwardness in pulling Alfred closer to himself for warmth. While they chatted, walking down the sidewalk, Francis began thinking back to those days when he first met and fought alongside the independent American... He sighed in a dreamy way.

They managed to walk all the way to the hotel without too much of a problem, but America had been meaning to ask something... 

"So, like... are we-" Alfred stopped short when they reached the the hotel entrance. 

"Alfred Foster Jones where have you been, and where is your phone!" Oh look what the caterpillars dragged in. England stormed over towards where both he and Francis stood. “America what have you and the Frog been doing? It's nearly midnight and we have a meeting tomorrow! I can't believe-" 

“Okay, mom,” he interrupted breaking from Francis to cross his arms in a pout. “I don't need you watching my back all the time!"

The Brit's face reddened in anger.

"Temper, temper, Angleterre," France chided.

England took a bold step towards him putting both hands on his hips. "This sort of behavior is not acceptable."

"That's not your call, dude!" America said, frowning.  
Just before England was about to say something back, France said,  
"You should be pleased with him. Alfred has been quite a gentleman escorting me… Time goes by when you're having fun,” he smiled derisively.  
Alfred beamed at the compliment, he was glad Francis had enjoyed his evening. England, on the other hand, frowned, studying them.  
“...Alfred's only nineteen, Frog. He shouldn't be doing anything in the city except attend the meetings, and he definitely shouldn't be doing anything with you." England grabbed Alfred's arm and tugged him away from Francis. “C'mon, boy.” Alfred yanked his arm away, but the damage already seemed to be done. Arthur still only saw him as a kid, no matter how hard he tried to be Arthur's equal it ended at the same conclusion. America wouldn’t look at the other.

Later that night the blond, France, still lay awake. America was over two-hundred years old technically and had a rather fast growing-up. As adulthood came greater age differences became less taboo to people, personifications included--look at Spain and Southern Italy!  
Still... Arthur’s words sat in the bottom of the Frenchman's stomach. ...In human years that was almost half a decade of difference and in the years from each one's first origins to now...  
He sat up.  
Well what right did England have to baby him? None. For over 200 years America had been independent and been through two World Wars, even! He was mature enough for Francis. The feeling now quelled, France lay back down on his bed for some rest…  
~ ~ ~

Alfred tossed around in his own bed, the sleep he so desperately desired wasn't coming. It was a nightmarish ending to a perfect day and he just wanted to be with Francis, but he didn't even know where Francis stood either in this. He regretted following Arthur back in the hotel, but he made it clear that he didn't trust Francis and that Alfred didn't have a choice in the matter. He twisted in the blankets again. "Damn it all, damn it all to hell and back…"

o o o

Waking up France pushed the button of the alarm clock down. Ah, 8:00 a.m.: the meeting was in two hours and France's flight would be later in the evening. Knowing he would fall back asleep he got up and opened the blinds just so there were enough slivers of light to see the objects in his room. He was a bit groggy, but making breakfast and putting on clothes usually fixed that. He grabbed to eggs from the provided mini fridge and went over to the kitchenette.  
As he waited for his eggs to cook, Francis wondered if Alfred was awake yet. Though he had plenty of time, as of right now, he thought it would be nice to return yesterday's favor and wake the American. He smiled.

He couldn't wait to tell his closest friends, Antonio and Gilbert, of course, about the wonderful night he had last night. After switching off the stove then consuming his omelet, Francis was more awake and took his clothes to the bathroom for a quick shower and change before heading off to wherever America's hotel room was. He hummed.  
~ ~ ~  
Alfred rolled in his bed, a soft snore leaving him as he finally got to sleep a few hours ago. He hadn't bothered with an alarm, he wanted to just miss the meeting entirely, but he knew when the sun entered the room he'd be up if he'd like it or not. He stirred a bit when he heard a light knock on his door, groaning.  
The knocking wouldn't stop. He turned, twisting more in the sheets, rolling around in the bed to try to escape that annoying noise when *THUMP*, he fell of the bed. "Shit." He groaned as he felt the back of his head. That was going to need ice. The knocking stopped, and a call of concern easily perked up Alfred's mood.  
Francis was on the other side. He happily got up, almost falling again as the sheets tangled at his feet and opened the door to see Francis already dressed and ready for the day while Alfred was still wearing his captain America pjs. "Francis!" Alfred gave a small yawn before he grinned at the other.  
Francis almost looked the man up and down. What odd pajamas, he thought, but he didn't want to make the other feel uncomfortable. What caught his attention more than his flashy outfit however was the sight of the young man's unadorned blue eyes…  
"Bonjour Amèrique. How did you sleep, cher?"

Alfred winced at the question, but then smiled to cover it up. "Awesome, dude. I slept like a baby." He opened the door more to let the other in. "I still have to get ready, if you don't mind…"

"Not if you don't," the French smiled stepping in and closing the door behind them. Before Alfred could get to his glasses, France took his face daintily and lead it to his own where their lips met softly. At the angle, lifting America's chin upward, France could see the apparent bags under his eyes and was aware of the American’s little fib... He broke the kiss off and moved his hand to hold Alfred's who looked at him in a daze.

"You should get ready now, cher," he said quietly. The meeting was in an hour now and neither of them, France knew, wanted to face the wrath (or rather deal with the tantrum) of a certain Brit.  
Alfred nodded, quickly going towards his bag and pulling out his uniform, before he left to get changed he quickly placed some bread in the toaster then left for the bathroom to quickly change and get ready. He wanted to hurry so that maybe they'd have time for more kisses before they'd have to leave.

France sat on the bed for a while before Alfred returned again hair tidied, in-uniform and glasses on.

"Let's go now!" It was half an hour till.

Alfred whined, but he knew they should probably be leaving. He grabbed his coffee from the kitchen, taking a drink and praying desperately that it would work to keep him awake.  
He grabbed the hotel key and opened the door for Francis. "I did promise Kiku I'd talk a bit about game development with him, otherwise I'd probably ask you to just stay in my room all day."  
Francis laughed at that, and, linking arms with the American, went out the door. 

~ ~ ~

They showed up early and America left France with a quick goodbye to go sit with Japan.  
France looked around. Prussia and Spain were in a corner of their own, chatting. As he approached, Spain had to make a double take in France's direction then paused in his speech to wave at him. 

"Bonjour Antoine, Gil," he gave a small nod to each of them.

"Hola, Francisco, what did you need?" The Spaniard's body tensed with excitement for the news as the Prussian just rolled his eyes and put his phone up, he was going to skip the meeting, but Francis had said this was important.

"You will not believe what happened last night!" He exclaimed, before lowering his voice for dramatic effect. He started, "Amèrique... and I..."

The Prussian gaped. 

"You fucked him." It was even more surprising that it was with Alfred of all people, he hadn't even thought that Francis was that close to America.

Antonio elbowed his friend. "Let him finish, amigo." He turned back to Francis, "So, did you?"

The Frenchman blushed and then became embarrassed at his friends seeing him do so. France waved his hand frantically, "Non, non we didn't!" He calmed down again and lowered his voice. "...We kissed. At the top of the Rockefeller Center! It was beau..." he sighed.

Prussia rolled his eyes as Spain squealed, literally squealed, and hugged his friend "¡Muy lindo! I didn't know America had it in him!"

France chuckled and was beaming. It wasn't over when Antonio let go of him; Prussia patted the blond on the back. While France was enjoying this praise a completely opposite feeling started growing in him.  
Noticing that he had suddenly seemed weary, Prussia and Spain's smiles fell a bit. 

"...He's a bit young, though, non?"

Prussia almost wanted to laugh, "So not awesome to hear, Franny. Age is a fickle thing when it comes to nations. Mien bruder is younger than Canada but looks older than America in human age."

Antonio nodded. 

"Roma's around the same age as America, human wise, but is centuries older than him." Spain gave his friend a comforting smile before looking at America, the younger’s hands doing wide gestures as he explained something to Japan. "…He's more mature than we give him credit for. At his age he should be worried about college classes and sports teams, but instead he’s a superpower who has saved us more than we'd like to admit," Spain grinned sheepishly. 

Prussia slapped the Spaniard on the back, "Don't get serious on me, it's unnerving, go back to being a ditz."

France smiled. He loved his friends... It was just then Germany came in with his things on today's topic and more countries had come in too. 

"We should get to our seats," said Prussia. 

They did. 

Alfred sat down at his seat between Japan and England, France on the side next to England. It was hard to keep himself focused. He thought about the way Arthur approached the both of them and even worse how Arthur saw them walking together like lovers! It was so awkward, now, and as his heartbeat sped it became obvious to the nations around him that something was off.  
England passed Alfred a note and he read over it:

'You alright? It looks like you haven't slept in weeks.'

He just crumpled up the paper, scowling a bit. He was getting a headache, and he knew that just the smallest thing would push him to his limit. "I'm fine," he mumbled, but another nation caught him. 

"What was that, capitalist pig? Maybe you'd like to share with the rest of us." 

Just great, Russia. He didn't want to deal with this, he'd only fight with the other nation and that wasn't ever a good thing.

"Hey, Russia?" Francis called getting the other's attention. The American felt his face heat. There was a sweet smile across France's face, but everyone in the room could detect something hiding behind it... "Let's give Amèrique a break, today. Da?" he mocked as the other countries in the room grew uncomfortable. 

Before this could continue further, Germany cleared his throat and the attention turned. ...Except for that of France's friends and England.

Alfred's face burned and he looked down at the papers in front of him, gripping his pencil tighter than normal. He could feel the stares of some countries on him and when England leaned down to whisper in his ear, he felt that it was nearly in the open. 

"I need to speak with you right after the meeting. It will only take a minute, lad."  
Prussia and Spain gave worried looks to Francis, who could only shrug meekly in response before facing Germany to act like he was listening... 

~ ~ ~

The meeting ended almost suddenly to Alfred and the moment it did, England had grabbed him and dragged him out of the meeting room, leaving Francis to anxiously wait, Spain and Prussia coming to join him. 

England stopped suddenly, turning to look at America. "What the hell is going on? You and the Frog are acting different, and it's not like you to be blushing like a bloody schoolgirl!" 

Alfred sighed, "It's none of your business, Artie."

"Francis...?" Spain was walking up to him, and Prussia too.

"Oui?"

"You saw England and America didn't you?" 

The Frenchman nodded, trying to hide that he was troubled…

England's eyes flashed in hurt. "Alfred, you don't know France for as long as I do, and if it's what I think it is, I know you'll both get hurt in the end. You'll expect too much from the Frog and I-"

"It's not your place! Yeah, I know there are risks," Alfred's eyes glared, "but it's my job to decide if it's worth it or not! You may be my brother, but you're taking the role too seriously, man.” Alfred turned and walked away from Arthur. “I'll be fine." 

"Francis," Prussia urged, "you need to go out there."

"I don't want to intervene," he explained under his calm facade. "...Alfred and Arthur have a relationship of their own."

"Yeah, but England'll say something, you know he will!"

"Then… if Alfred cannot come to me about it perhaps we shouldn’t be together."

The white-haired Germanic stared at France solemnly. 

"...Don't hurt yourself, Franny," said Spain.

He sighed. "...I'm trying not to." Francis stood and walked over to the doorway, but not outside the meeting hall. His two friends looked on worriedly.

Alfred stormed away from Arthur, visibly hurt from Arthur's accusations like he was a child. He pushed past Japan in the hallway. The other called after him but rage making it impossible for him to hear Kiku as they entered the meeting room, he only stopped when his knee met the table. He just stood, tense, and seethed. 

"America-san,” started a nervous Japan, “I'm sorry, but are you alright?"

France's eyes widened and he approached Alfred.

Japan glanced at Francis, reading the mood he left with a quiet "text me" aimed at Alfred who was gripping the back of a chair tightly. Lately, this always happened when he talked with Iggy…  
France placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Alfred tensed even more at first when he felt the hand on his shoulder, but he relaxed at hearing France’s voice.

"...Cher, let's go back to the hotel where you can rest."

He gave a sigh, turning towards France and (badly) hiding the pain in his eyes. “You have to go to the airport, though…" His voice shook despite his desperate attempt to stay strong. Dammit, what hero was such a crybaby?

France had forgotten about his flight before that moment. 

"Not until later this evening," he assured the other, "And..." he leaned towards his ear to whisper, "I'd miss it for you, Alfred." He pulled the other into an embrace.

Alfred blushed, and let himself be held for a moment, but he squirmed out of Francis' hold, knowing Spain and Prussia were still there. "Let's just go to the hotel then." He gathered his stuff and grabbed Francis' hand, who lead him away.

Francis was almost surprised that the two hadn't already left on their own terms... How he cherished them both.

Francis looked back one last time at his best friends, smiling, and mouthed: ‘Merci’ He also noticed England when he passed by him, eyeing each other briefly, but that was all.

They managed to get into the hotel room and Alfred laid down on his stomach on the bed, sighing. He bit his lip and gripped the bed sheets, trembling slightly. Why couldn't Arthur see him as equal, was the revolution all for nothing?

Francis closed the blinds a little then sat near him rubbing his back soothingly. 

"It's alright..." he said. “You don't have to say anything, cher... But don't hold it all in, you have nothing to be ashamed of." Alfred gave a choked sound and his whole body seemed to crumble. "It's alright, Alfred, it's okay..." 

France couldn't tell if America was crying now or not but it obviously wasn't coming easy, as Alfred felt his eyes watering and he strangled back a sob. He started getting worried. What had England said to him?  
The American became alarmed as he felt the blond’s motions falter, turning his body more towards Francis, and gripping the Frenchman’s uniform.

France stopped rubbing in slight surprise, before smiling gently. He took Alfred's hand, kissed it, and pulled him up so they were eye-to-eye. Francis struggled to find the words he wanted... so he settled for placing a kiss on Alfred's lips and pulling him close. 

Alfred gave a sniffle and every once in awhile his body shook as a sob escaped him, letting his pent-up frustration out in tears, probably wettening France's uniform grossly. 

The blond promised himself that he would talk to Arthur the next time they saw one another. His love for Alfred may be short-lived, at this point, but that gave England no right to judge them... Neither did England's grudge against France and vice versa; they hadn't had a war in years and two European’s relationship had ended years before that. It was then that Francis heard the younger nation sigh, and Alfred melted into him.

“Better now?” the Frenchman inquired, running a hand through his hair. Alfred moved his arms so they were around Francis' neck to lift himself some, basically moving onto Francis’ lap. Though, he was hesitant to show the other his tear stained face.

“Yeah… thanks."

Francis laughed inwardly at his America now...  
He smirked and wrapped his arm around the brunette's torso, bringing him closer, and using his other hand to move some of the hair from Alfred's face, tucking it behind his ear. 

"Tout le plaisir était pour moi..." France fought to resist bringing his lips to Alfred's own, even if the nation was practically giving himself. But that's what he was afraid of. 

It could turn into a nasty habit of America relying on kisses and such whenever he became depressed opposed to talking it out with France... He knew because he had experienced it himself and with other countries for years before. It was unhealthy and the thought of Alfred falling into that trap broke his heart.

"Cher..." he rubbed circles into the other's back, "Tell me, what did he say to you?"

Alfred lowered his head, biting his lip, but his glassy eyes reflected anger. "Just the usual. That he knows more than me and that I shouldn't be in a relationship with you because of your past, so I'll just get hurt like he did."

France's heart sank and he found that his voice caught. But just as easily did his mood fall did he feel determination rush inside of him. He lifted Alfred's face towards his and looked him straight in the eye with a burning passion. 

"Alfred," he began, "I will do anything to gain your trust and I will not treat it lightly. I cannot deny my past and am not... but, cher... I do not want to hurt you."

Alfred glanced down, his eyes clearing a little as well as the worries he inadvertently let Arthur get into his head. He looked at France again.

"Time… I'll need time. And you'll have to keep your hands off of other people… and keep your flirting to a minimum."

Francis trailed his fingers into Alfred's light brown hair. "Easy..." he remarked, "as long as that means I can have my hands on you."

Alfred unwillingly shuddered and barely nodded in response to the other’s statement. Francis kissed the blushing male, twirling his locks around his fingers to have a tight grip. Provoking a soft whimper from the other, Francis had to hold back a laugh and his urges to go further... The Frenchman had matured too; he pulled away from Alfred and slid from under him to sit beside him.

"I'll have to be going shortly,” he said, “My boss would be very angry if I missed my flight."  
Alfred lips formed a pout. "I know you have to leave, but I still don't like it."  
Francis smiled and gave Alfred a kiss on the head. The American then made a small whine as the Frenchman stood up and started towards the door. Before he left, however, Francis turned flashing his lover a warm smile.

"Until next time, cher," 

Alfred gave Francis a smile back, watching as he left out the door…

“…Love you…” he murmured. 

~ ~ ~

Immediately after France closed the door behind him, his brows were knit. His flight wasn't leaving for another two hours, the airport being a mere 25 minutes away… He went down the hallway swiftly looking at the door numbers '...206, 208, 210-'  
He stopped at Arthur's door and prepared to knock.

The Englishman on the other side of the door stirred, opening the door for his eyes to widen in shock. "’The bloody hell? Frog?"

France's heart jumped into his throat. He was caught wanting to smack the eyebrows off him remembering how he hurt Alfred... He swallowed, hard.  
"Alfred told me what you said, Arthur... I think we need to talk. Will you let me in, s'il vous plait?”

Arthur's eyes narrowed, "I don't think that's a good idea, pervert…” But in the end he still opened the door for Francis and turned towards the kitchenette. "Tea?"

A smile slipped onto his face. "Oui, merci... I want this to be quick though."  
England eyed him, but continued heating a kettle of water. Francis took a seat in one of the two facing armchairs.  
"…You are protective of Alfred," he began.

Arthur glared at Francis from where he stood. "So what of it? If someone was dating his brother, the quiet one, you know you'd be the same way." He turned and took the teacups out of the cupboard, before glancing back at Francis who was taking a seat on the couch in his room.

"I mean nothing of it; you love Amèrique in your own way as do I with Matthew. It's a natural feeling...” Francis brought his hands together in his lap, “But Angleterre, you expect him to be too much like you. He is his own person-” (France refrained from using the word 'independent') "-and has the right to make his own decisions."

England frowned, going to take a seat across from France. "I'm not going to let that bugger make the same type of mistakes I made… You act like…” he paused, a choked sound leaving him. “…like I don't know he is a different person from me. I'm reminded of it every bloody day, Frog." He stared down at the floor with a glare, before aiming it at France. "I just don't want him hurt by the likes of you. Is that too much to ask for?"

France leaned forward in his chair staring right into England's eyes. "Non, Angleterre, you act like you don't know. What we had was centuries ago... It was terrible. We couldn't even be in the same room as each other; trying to date after something that was supposed to be a one-night stand—our feelings were immature…"  
He was losing his attention, England seeming to not be able to listen to France much longer... Francis clasped England's hand in his own and he looked up, surprised and turned red.  
"I was immature,” he admitted, “Arthur... I love him. I haven't 'defiled' him we've only gotten so far where we've kissed in his room and that's all because I want to go slow... I don't want to hurt Alfred." His eyes pleaded the Englishman. "I don't want to hurt you either."

Arthur's demeanor became cold and hard once more. "Well you obviously did a good job of that." He yanked his hand away from Francis' and left the chair to get the kettle off the burner as it screamed for attention. As he prepared the tea he continued to talk. "This… isn't about us, Francis. Nations go in and out of relationships like they're water, the problem is, Alfred can't see his relationships like that. Every relationship he's had be it with Russia, Japan, or Vietnam, he's always insisted it would be the one that would last forever. Unless you can agree with that saying humans use 'till death do us part', you'll only hurt him." He handed France a cup, sipping on his own tea.

To be polite he took a drink as they sat across from each other in silence. When the cup was empty, Francis smiled and stood up, muttering a "thank you" his eyes unreadable in the swift movement. He thought of saying something more but decided not as he turned his back on the Englishman and walked out the door.

Angleterre had a way of dropping what he hadn't wanted others to hear... France wouldn't waste his time fishing out what he already knew was going on deep down inside him, no, that was for Arthur and Arthur alone to deal with. Not that France could change anything if he wanted to now… The blond shook his head; that's not who his focus was with anymore.

Arthur took a deep breath, his eyes clouding as France left. "Narcissistic bastard," he muttered. It had been years since Arthur had been with France and to say the breakup hadn't been easy would be an understatement. He just didn't want Alfred to go through the same pain he went through. He shook his head as his phone vibrated. 

"China? Hong Kong is playing with firecrackers again? Well he's your son too... Yes, I'm coming. See you in a minute, love."

~ ~ ~  
In the hall again France shut the door to his room. He was about to start towards the elevator, suitcase in hand, but was drawn the other direction by a thought he suddenly had...  
He stood before Alfred's door, turning the knob slightly... ... *click* As the door began to open France felt himself give, but he quietly and quickly regained balance. He slid in.  
It was dark inside the room though there was an apparent Alfred-shaped lump on the bed sleeping. France walked up to him. Had the door been unlocked because he had been expected? Had America been hoping he would return?

Just then the brunette emitted a soft snore. He chuckled quietly... Gracefully, Francis removed his indigo capelet from his shoulders, folding it neatly and placing it where America would certainly see it: on the side-table near his glasses.

One last time he'd love to run his fingers through the other's hair, kiss his soft-pink lips, and lose himself in his pair of wildly blue eyes... but France kept to himself and was serene with the few moments he had to take in as much as he visually could and recall the feelings he experienced to have to hold onto for when he missed Alfred. 

Francis sighed before going to leave the room.

"Bon soir, Alfred..."

The sunset tinted the sky a gentle orange. Outside was where all the personifications were, hailing taxis in groups since they were all going to the same airport.

When he arrived in France it was very early in the morning and the personification was very drowsy. Francis suddenly realized he hadn't turned his phone on since the plane took off. Ah, he had missed a text! Tapping a couple of icons Francis beheld the unexpected message.

\-------------------------------------  
Angleterre  
\---------------  
if you hurt Alfred I'll kill you, frog...  
\--------------------------------------------- 

o o o

Alfred groaned, shivering in his sleep, he turned, his hand groping the sheets but he couldn't find the blanket anywhere. He then felt something soft then he felt something soft and he brought it towards him. The strong scent of something flowery (‘Roses?’) and hair products made him melt. “France.” His eyes opened slowly to see only indigo and reality set in. 

Francis had left last night, it was morning, and the shawl-thing he was holding was too thin to keep him warm. He smiled though, wondering how it ended up on his bed (had France put it there or Alfred’s restless sleeping habits? The deciding factor was when he found his glasses on the floor, almost having stepped on them for the third time this month). It didn't matter, he and Iggy had a series of meetings this week and a text on his phone asking him to join Arthur for lunch (‘Crap it’s already 11:00’) proved that even after the world meetings he was still going to be busy.

Alfred: sure, dude I'll meet u @ the pizza place we go 2, bring the fam if u wanna

China and Hong Kong were in the bathroom still in pajamas, brushing their teeth. There probably wasn't any time, England thought, and responded to Alfred.

Igs-man: They appreciate the offer but Hong Kong and China are tired today.  
Igs-man: I'll be @ the pizza parlor @12:30. I'm sure you're still in your pajamas too.

Alfred turned red at Iggy's last text, England knew him too well. But he was faster at getting ready, already halfway out of his clothes when Arthur texted him.

Alfred: c u soon

~ ~ ~

England went into the restaurant. "Table for two, please," he told the woman at the front who guided him to the back where there was a small square table with two chairs at either end.  
A waitress came by and he politely explained that he was waiting for someone else and in a few seconds or so Alfred would come in…

Alfred stumbled into the restaurant, his glasses askew. Of course he had to run into Cuba on the way there. Luckily he hadn't seen Alfred enter the restaurant. He immediately noticed Arthur and he hesitated, all that was said yesterday, could he just forget it and move on? He steeled himself, he still had to get to the table. Walking forward he sat in the seat across from Arthur, his whole posture relaxed, but domineering, as if Alfred could fill the room with his presence alone. "Yo, Artie. Sorry I'm late."

He smiled, "I haven't been waiting long. Has the Frog told you yet?" He asked abruptly. England could begin having this conversation now, knowing the woman wouldn't be back for a couple of minutes.

Alfred blinked, what, was Francis hiding something? No, Francis wasn't like that. "Told me what, Artie? Because all of us already knew about the time you tried to pluck your eyebrows and it didn't work, it was obvious." 

"Oh," his eye twitched slightly in annoyance, "yes, he would come up with a rumour like that... No, Alfred, it's not that." England gave him a look. *sigh* did he really have to say it… "You and France... can make your own decisions..."

Alfred looked at Arthur confusedly.

"Wh- what I mean is... I won't interfere with the two of you," he had to swallow back vomit, "being together..."

Alfred beamed, "Don't kill yourself, dude. And if you weren't across the table from me, I swear if hug you. Do you really mean it?!" This was totally unexpected, but it was way better than what he was expecting, almost as good as ice cream, and that was really good.

England blushed slightly, happy now that Alfred was. Though he still had a vague feeling that he had just let the other sabotage himself... "Yes... Alfred, I apologize for how I stuck my nose into your business. I... worry, you fool." he trailed off, avoiding eye contact and wondering where that waitress had gone.

America grinned. He wanted to ask more questions, like why Arthur changed his mind, or if he thought he should order the same thing he got last time, and how the little firecracker bug was doing. But he’d probably just tick the other nation off, and he already had trouble keeping good terms with Arthur, so he decided to let his easily distracted mind keep all of the thoughts in his head, focusing on answering the text Kiku sent him, apparently he thought zombie-killing video games were hard but they really weren't, at least Alfred didn't think so. 

The worker from before came up to the two countries, introducing herself and asking what drinks they wanted.

"A water, please," said England.

Alfred barely gave the waitress a glance "Coke, please." He was too busy now gazing at the menu to pay attention to her.

As the woman walked away England furrowed his brows. He was stumped, wondering whether he should tell the American more or not... It was the Frog's place, not his, he knew, yet... would Alfred care to ask him? Would he care if he was getting together with... with a cheater? He shook those thoughts from his mind realizing he didn't know what to order yet and, similarly to Alfred, used the menu as his escape.

"I don't believe I had a calzone the last time... What are you getting, Alfred?"

Alfred glanced up, England's face seemed troubled but he knew better than to push the nation. "I think I want three large pepperoni pizzas, one small cheese pizza, and a hamburger…"

He couldn't believe he was eating so little to be honest, but at the moment nothing sounded good to him, except ice cream but Arthur looked down on dessert during lunch so he didn't push it.  
The waitress returned with the two's drinks and asked if they were ready to order.

"Yes, I'll have a calzone," said England. 

"Alright..." she jotted it down, "and for you, sir?" 

England mentally prepared himself.

Alfred grinned before looking at his menu "Three large pepperoni pizzas, one small- no, make that a medium cheese pizza, two ham-”

'Oh God,' England groaned inwardly but tried to keep a presentable facade.

“-burgers, and one of those calzones he got, and a side order of chili cheese fries. Please." He looked up at the waitress who stared at him in shock. 

"Sir, um, are you seriously ordering all that?" Alfred nodded before the waitress looked again at what she had written. "So for you I have three large pepperoni, one medium cheese, two hamburgers, one calzone, and a chili cheese fry? Are you certain you'll eat that?"  
Alfred nodded, "Dude, that will barely keep me till snack time, of course I can eat that." She looked at him again, the American didn't seem chubby, he was actually pretty skinny and looked a bit built. “Al-alright then...anything else?”

"No!" His face turned red and Arthur regretted speaking up instantly.  
The waitress nodded awkwardly to them and walked away.

Alfred glanced at Arthur "I didn't order too little did I?" He should have asked about that all you can eat fries special…

"Alfred..." he gaped, "your own citizens don't consume nearly as much food as you..."  
Alfred blinked "Well you do have a point: the majority doesn’t, but some do, and I have a high metabolism so the hero doesn't have to worry about getting fat!" He didn't want to tell Arthur the real reason he ate a lot... Wanting to change the subject America started, "It's not a big deal, Artie, but… why were you so against me and Francis anyways?"

His discomfort was painfully obvious and England felt his heart beat pick up. He glanced away having to decide to either potentially hurt the country with the truth or covering it up with a lie. 

"...Alfred, I don't think it's my place." But of course it was! He had been the American's caretaker once and Arthur loved him like a brother and even, at times, a son. Was it such a hard decision? Yet their relationship seemed just back to normal and Alfred had been so happy to hear that England would allow him to be dating France...  
"Fr- Francis and I..." he stuttered, "we broke up for a reason, not just because we don’t get along with each other. I don't feel it's my place to- to dig up another's skeletons..."

Alfred gave a confused look, what was Arthur talking about? "You're not making any sense. What do skeletons have to do with this?"

"It's a metaphor that means I don't want to talk about someone else's past."

Alfred nodded, his curiosity was bugging him, begging to hear more, but it wasn't just and that would go against being a hero. "So what you're trying to say is something actually happened and it was probably Francis' fault...?"

England only nodded. 

It would probably be easier for France to tell him anyway, he thought, sneering. 

Alfred frowned, "Arthur, I'm sorry for bringing it up, I mean, you're my bro and I don't want to upset you and, um, I'm hungry."

What being hungry had to do with any of that, Arthur wouldn't trouble himself wondering. He felt a bit better at what Alfred said. It was still hard for England to think about at times and he appreciated the other’s concern.  
"It's alright, Alfred." Arthur smiled at him. "...If you need it I hope I can be here for you."

Alfred grinned, he felt better when Arthur said that, but was also somewhat wary of the Englishman’s word considering how hard it was to talk about his own past relationship with France. Since he already started and they probably had a while to wait America asked about Leon and Yao so England could do all the talking during that time.


End file.
